


Famished

by Idjit_01



Series: Road food & Enemies [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Banter, Caring Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Chick-Flick Moments, Dean Winchester Has an Eating Disorder, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Eating Disorders, Graphic Description, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not gonna say what they fight 'cause spoilers, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:47:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idjit_01/pseuds/Idjit_01
Summary: A glance to the effects of Dean's struggles with an eating disorder before, during and after a case. Contains some spoilers up to 5x14.It contains an episode (all about a squirrel), the aftermath (featuring a moose), a case (with a blonde as guest star) and the after-aftermath [of the episode + case] (with a feathery angel in the way).{Summary changed as the story progresses}*On hold. Will be back in May 2021. Thanks for your patience..*
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Road food & Enemies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199354
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	1. Temporary Fix

**Author's Note:**

> Pfff.
> 
> I've been watching some of my favorite episodes again and when I watched season 5, episode 14 again, I just go so inspired.
> 
> I really really hope you like it. 
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think :)
> 
> Btw, please take care of yourself. This is a massive EATING DISORDER trigger warning. Try to get help if this is something you struggle with. I hope things get better for you eventually~

Dean rolls to the other side of the dirty mattress the motel had available. The cars keep running down the street, motors running and honks waking him every time he starts to drift off.

Sammy's rhythmic breathing annoys him like an unrelenting fly, because how is it fair that he gets to sleep when Dean's the one who's exhausted?

He turns again, bed creaking dangerously and he sighs. He's so tired. He lets his eyes close, breathes deeply and starts to count; this should do the trick.

Fifty-seven. The moment he hits fifty-seven, he feels his stomach quiver and a loud growl go through him. 

He shivers. He's _so_ hungry.

Dean doesn't know when he got used to the hunger.

When he hears about people like _this_ , they always pinpoint their illness to an event or a specific time in their lives.

For him, he believes, it must have grown gradually. Somewhere between Mom's death and Sammy's departure to Stanford it must have grown within him, quietly, slowly, like a virus in the air that gets only caught after its spread worldwide and taken enough rotting bodies hostage to repopulate a city or two. No one knows how it got there, or how to stop it, and everyone points at each other madly for someone to take the blame, because they need someone to get mad at.

Out of the blue a loud honk makes him jump. His stomach isn't growling anymore. He doesn't think he's really hungry, but he feels like he needs _something_. He's craving something so badly his hands are twitching and his mind's fallen into a loop of beer and meat and salty fries and soft vanilla milkshakes.

He isn't hungry, he's downright _famished_.

So, he turns to the end of the bed and slowly, cautiously, lowers his feet onto the freezing ground, stands up without disturbing too much the decaying mattress, takes his keys, and quickly leaves the room.

The cold air hits his face like a slap, punishing him for giving in to his urges. Otherwise, he also kind off finds it refreshing, less stuffed than the moldy room he was in, so it's easier to breathe.

He feels like the air is giving him another chance, telling him to go back, that _he doesn't have to do this_. But he's already made up his mind.

He speed-walks to the diner at the right of the motel and thanks his luck that it's still open.

He hesitates at the door, shuffling with his hands and his pockets and his keys and his credit card, but rushes onto a stool when the exhausted-looking redhead looks up from the register.

"Welcome to Eli's Diner. What can I getcha?" She smiles.

He looks at the board behind her, as if he didn't already know what he's gonna order, and falters when he sees the specials. 

When she clears her throat, he throws her his most blinding smile. "How about... Two bacon cheeseburgers, two curly fries, a vanilla milkshake, a chocolate milkshake, a vegan cookie and two slices of apple pie?"

When her eyes widen slightly before she schools her expression, he adds "To go, please. Can't leave my brother waiting" and winks at her.

She blushes and scrambles herself into the kitchen, nodding slightly to let him know she's on it.

After he's seen the digital clock change numbers seven times Dean starts to doubt himself. He's lasted for so long, he prides himself in being able to curb his needs and pretend to be fine with as little as he can get. It shouldn't be hard for him to not do this.

But then he thinks of Famine, the horseman, and how he was right when he told him he was empty inside. He remembers how he didn't really lied to Cas when he told him he was well-fed, because he gets what he wants when he wants it so he survives. Right now is proof of it. He remembers how Famine wondered why he didn't cave, and he knows, _he knows_. He knows it's because he's used to it.

He's used to being famished; he's used to the hunger. Literally and metaphorically, in every sense of the word.

So, he knows how to fight it, he knows _how to deprive himself_. He knows he'll never get what he needs because it isn't something he can't just get.

A thump in front of him tires him away from his musings. When he sees the bag of food, he smiles.

"Thank you," he sees, like someone would when he's getting something he doesn't want but needs, like someone who's just gotten his fix and needs to run away to be able to consume it as soon as possible.

The walk back to the room is a blur. He's in the diner and then he's in the bathroom and he really hopes Sam hasn't waken up because he doesn't know how much noise he's made in his way back. 

He's in the diner and then he's in the bathroom, reaching blindly into the bag and eating whatever he can find first. Cramming food into his mouth like a teenager would cram a lover into their wardrobe when their parents got into their room. He hides everything inside him before he can even swallow, chokes multiple times while trying to fit everything inside him without having to taste it.

Sometime along the way he finds himself over the toilet, fingers playing inside his mouth, over his tongue and onto his throat, bile and vanilla and chunks of whatever he's swallowed clogging the toilet and stinking up the bathroom, swallowing up all the clean air available in the crammed too.

When he can breathe again, he's resting against the scratched wall, throat throbbing, stomach churning with the nothing that's left.

There are tear marks on his cheeks from the pressure he's out on his head, from the strain he's put on his body. These tears aren't emotional, they're due to effort.

When he feels steady enough, he cleans the room, his face and hands and drinks and spits a few times.

He has to wait at least an hour before he can wash his teeth.

At least he's calm again. He doesn't think he'll get another episode for a while. The pressure inside him, the craving, the _need_ <, isn't really satisfied. But it's something.

And that's enough for now.

So, he looks around the room and when everything seems to be in order, not a crumb left, he goes outside and stick the vegan cookie in his coat. He may have to use it later if Sam finds out why he left the room that night.

He takes his shoes off and lays on the bed. His stomach hurts and everything smells like vomit. 

He stands up again and opens the window.

It's cold, but the smell will fade.

The cars, honks and screams get louder.

Dean turns to his side and closes his eyes.

He's exhausted.


	2. Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up, struggles a bit with food, gets in a little banter with Sam and travels with Sam for a case.

By the time Dean completely slips out of unconsciousness he's already heard Sam shuffling around for a while.

It's freezing cold and card haven't really stopped storming by all night. Every time he felt himself falling asleep, a honk or a garbage truck would drag him out of Morpheo's arms.

Even though Sam's been awake for a while, he realizes he didn't bother to close the window.

His grip on the sheets below him tightens as he rolls onto his stomach, trying to hide from the offending sun light that blinds him even through his close eyelids.

Despite the lack of sleep making his eyes feel like they're burning as if he were about to cry and his throat stinging every time he swallows due to the night before's activities, he hasn't felt so peaceful in a while.

Accostumed to everyone and everything in life always leaving him, he isn't really surprised when the state of calmness he's reached out of the blue is yanked out of him when he hears the water running in the bathroom.

His hearts starts to pound against his ribcage as he tries to recall the familiar clean up routine he performed the previous night. _Did he really sweep every crumb, wrapper and possible evidence Sam could hold against him? Did he get rid of the stink of his failure?_

His eyes open against his will and _wow, he had really underestimated the dryness of his eyes_.

He brings his hands up to rub his eyes when the acrid smell of vomit reeking from his hands –which he could swear he had washed thoroughly in his disarray– and he really hopes it's not noticeable enlugh for Sam to have been able to pick it up.

As if on cue, he hears him bemoan from the bathroom, causing his heart to jump suddenly. He feels as if it's trying to run away from his chest.

Just as it's finally slowing down, his senses narrow down to the squeak of the bathroom door being opened.

He closes his eyes and lays down as still as he can, trying to relax his muscles by pretending he's on his memory foam mattress instead, so Sam can't tell he's awake by the stiffness of his body and the unsteadiness of his breathing.

Sam stays behind him for a few seconds, putting him on edge, before he walks away, and he can hear the tap water running again.

Before he can acknowledge Sam's heavy footsteps coming back towards him, something glacial and wet falls all over him, making him squeal like a little kid.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean howl's when the shock wears off, voice raspy and somewhat painful. "What the hell!?"

"God, Dean." Sam answers. He somehow sound profoundly pissed but fairly amused. "How much did you have to drink last night?"

Relief floods Dean as Sam's just given him the perfect excuse for everything he might ask except the well-hidden wrappers and crumbs laying at the bottom of the bathroom's trash can.

He shrugs as if to appraise the worthlessness of the question.

Sam sighs in helplessness.

"Anyways," He utters, "Ellen called. Jo's been missing for over a week."

Dean exhales heavily at the statement.

"Where?"

"Oakhurst, Oklahoma."

"Okay. What-?"

" _Dean,_ " Sam interrupts tiredly. "I need coffee. Take a shower, change. I don't care. Just, hurry up. I'll check us out. See you in twenty? I'll tell you everything in the car."

"Sure." Dean complies, looking anywhere other than Sam. Then he adds, muttering, " _Baby_. Not _the car_."

As soon as he hears Sam leave, he lets his thoughts wander, briefly losing his composure at eating anything else right now, as Sam will expect him to eat breakfast with their coffee. 

He knows he's still wavering around his _binging space_ , and if he eats right now, he fears he probably won't be able to stop.

He shakes his head and takes a quick chowder, not allowing himself to relish the warm water more than necessary, unwilling to think his way into another mental turmoil.

When he washed his teeth, he can still taste the acid and bile in his mouth; the supposedly refreshing toothpaste turning almost too chilly to bear with his sudden sensitivity.

He checks the room and packs the few stray items laid around before rushing out.

Sam isn't done at the register when he passes by as they aren't the only ones leaving. When he sees Dean, he gestures him to go buy them some breakfast while he waits.

Dean nods and walks away, both relieved and apprehensive at the same time. 

He can get a black coffee for himself and say he ate while he waited, avoiding the matter concerning him since Sam mentioned the coffee.

On the other hand, he'll probably encounter the same employee as the night before and he can't handle asking her for food so soon after his feast.

He walks non-chalantly over the front of the diner pretending to be just another passer-by while he discreetly tries to survey the diner for a red head.

When he recognizes her hair on a body similar to hers, his eyes widen, and he walks around to the back of the building.

He's trying to muster all the courage he's got –and, _really?_ , he fights monsters for a living, this shouldn't affect him _at all_ – to turn around and get into the diner, shame be damned, when his eyes fall upon a couple vending machines near the diner's back door.

A soft smile spreads on his face as he buys two Americanos and looks for something to bring Sam to eat. He finally settles for a breakfast burrito, _and doesn't that say something about his issues? Being willing to let Sam stink up his Baby with his farts so he doesn't have to get into the diner_. 

By the time he's back to the car, Sam's already seated on the driver's seat.

Dean lifts his eyebrows disbelieving before going to approach him.

When Sam sees Dean walking over, his face twists into one of his bitch faces and he prepares himself to fights Dean over being the driver.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Dean bellows.

" _Dean_ ," Starts Sammy with a patronizing voice, "you woke me up with your drunk retching a few hours ago. I know you haven't slept and you're probably extremely hangover. Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "I'm _fine, Sammy_. Now scoot over. I'm older and this is _my _car."__

__When Sam doesn't seem to give in, he adds. "Besides, I already ate. You still have to and can't drive while you do that."_ _

__As Sam's more amenable after this argument, Dean smiles at him and finishes. "I _promise_ I'll tell you if I don't feel fine." He lies._ _

__Sam nods unconvinced but changes seats._ _

__When Dean feels the motor of the Impala come to life he can't help but purr in contentment. As he starts the car Lovin' On a Prayer starts to blare through the car._ _

__It's easy for him to lose himself in the happiness driving Baby causes him._ _

__So, when Sam clears his throat abruptly and looks at him expectantly before lowering the volume, he can't help but scowl._ _

__"How are you?" Asks Sam tentatively._ _

__" _Peachy_ ," Responds Dean automatically. "But if I'm gonna miss this song because you wanna _talk_ , at least talk me about the case."_ _

__"I just want you to know that you can talk to me," Insists Sam, "y' know? You and I against the world, remember? We fight this, together."_ _

__"There's nothing to fight. Now, talking about fighting, why don't you tell me about-?"_ _

__"Dean, it's obvious you're struggling. I haven't seen you so fucked up, so drunk, so often, since... Probably since dad died. So... I want you to know I'm here, y'know, if you wanna talk 'cause I know you can fight this, but you don't have to do it alone."_ _

__Dean rolls his eyes at this and grips the wheel tighter, knuckles tense and white._ _

__"I'm not a chick." Says Dean through his teeth._ _

__Sam sighs and shakes his head. "Okay. I'm here anyways."_ _

__After a few seconds of silence, Dean moves to turn the music up. Just before he can, Sam finally starts to spill. "So, Jo. She went to Oakhurst, Oklahoma, on a lead for what she thought were a couple shapeshifters. But when he got there she found out that...."_ _

__Eventually Dean reaches for the volume again and turns it up while listening to Sam half-heartedly. When he reaches for his phone to let Sam call Bobby with his musings over the case, his hand hits something soft and crumbly._ _

___The vegan cookie._ He had forgotten all about it._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about adding a chapter with Jo and maybe part of the case? before doing the one with Cas, but I'm not sure. Would you like that?
> 
> Okay. So, I did my best. I'm sleep deprived and kind of terrified of writing a story with multiple chapters, but I did my best. So I hope it isn't too disappointing.
> 
> Also, English isn't my first language. So I apologise for any mistakes.
> 
> Let me know if there's something specific you'd like to read. I may add it somehow.
> 
> See ya in a couple of days again ;)


	3. Note (not a chapter)

I'm very very sorry, but insomnia and uni and other stuff are kicking my ass so I'm late. I know I am late, and it will still take a bit more time. 

Anyways, I swear I'll do my best to have the next chapter published before this week ends. 

Again, I'm really sorry for the delay. Thanks for waiting and reading anyways :)


	4. The fog and the blonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean get to the motel where Jo was staying in. There's a significant change in the case and, after a short drive, they find what they were looking for.

It doesn't take them too long to get to Oakhurst, Oklahoma. They only stop once on the way there for Sammy's burrito-permeates intestines to empty themselves and to stock up on snacks, beer, and coffee. Dean's stomach growl loudly twice and Sammy looks at him suspiciously, but he refuses to stop to eat in the premise of their possible lack of time to save Jo from whatever situation she may be in.

They park directly in front of the motel Jo was staying in and immediately ask for a key to her temporary room, making up a story about how she's their sister who they were visiting as a surprise as they suddenly remembered she was in town when they were passing by and thanking their lucky stars that they can back it up because they know which fake identity she uses as Ash had just made it for her.

When Sam hesitates and shuffles his feet, looking apprehensively at Dean and then back at the front desk as if to ask something else, Dean throws him a glare and mouths 'Jo' at him, not taking a chance about Sam doing something about his growling stomach. Sam nods sharply and they go on to Jo's motel room.

Sam opens the door carefully from behind the door handle, gun aimed at whatever could come out of it. Dean imitates him from the other side of the door. 

The room is dark when they get in it, curtains closed. The bed is made sloppily as if Jo left in a hurry. Dust covers the few free surfaces, but the room's otherwise empty.

Sam comes out of the bathroom when he seems it clear. There are no teeth, skin, blood or hair that could indicate a shapeshifters changing forms in there. There is also no trace to determine where Jo is or what could have happened for her to disappear like that.

One thing is evident; no one has set foot in there in days.

Dean feels helpless as they don't find anything they could go on. _He doesn't think of the beer in Baby's backseat at all._

While Dean looks around one more time, Sam sets his stuff on the bed to go over the case and hack the motel's cameras. Dean's sent away to talk to the other residents and motel crew.

Dean feels his mind slipping away from the task constantly as he walks around. He hasn't bumped into anyone he could interrogate yet.

The thing about _what he does_ is that while his mind is mostly plagued with thoughts of food and alcohol and counting, it almost forms this fog over his brain that dampens every thought and memory, almost making everything go away, especially when he hasn't eaten in a while or has thrown up recently.

While it's a blessing due to everything he's been through and all he would feel if it didn't help him repress it, it can also be a curse when he has to focus, such as when he's fighting, reluctantly researching or maintaining a conversation without the irritation of the effort of having to focus when he's _so calm and tired_ making him blow up.

He's behind a glass wall that slows him and makes everything wrong with him quiet, whilst also forcing him to strain himself further to keep up with the world on the outside.

There's a vending machine at his right when he manages to focus again. Dean thinks of buying something but ends up staring at it indecisively until a feeling like he's being watched overcomes him. He surveys his surroundings tentatively, but nothing abnormal catches his eye.

Lost in empty thought of exhaustion and cloaked hunger as he loses focus again, it takes him a few seconds too long to react when a mirage of Jo passes beside him carrying a metal dagger in her right hand. When he starts to follow her, she's already gone.

Either these shapeshifters are extremely fast and immune to metal, Jo's died and turned into a ghost —thought he immediately crushes as he can't even fathom it— or they aren't dealing with what they thought they were dealing with.

Dean rubs his eyes and leans back for a moment. He feels tired, weak.

As scenarios of what could have happened or could be happening to Jo start to take form behind his eyelids, his blood starts to boil and his pulse to quicken in fear, irritation and anger.

He rushes to the room Sam's in quickly and swings the door open.

Sam looks up from his computer. Dean's mouth closes automatically as he sees his expression.

"I know where Jo is, or, at least, where she went after staying here."

Dean scurries behind Sam and briefly looks at his computer, too bright screen blinding his irritated eyes. He wonders if he has a hangover even if he hasn't touch a drop of alcohol in at least twenty hours, give or take.

He surveys the room for any stray items that could enlighten them of what Jo's gotten into one last time while Sam packs up. By the time he's done, Sam's already strolling back to the car.

Dean follows him hurriedly, and, as soon as the car's in motion, he looks at Sam sideways before focusing on the road ahead.

"I'm not so sure we're dealing with shapeshifters here." He announces.

Sam looks up from his phone, silently urging him to continue.

"I saw Jo in the outside of the motel." Sam lifts his brows expectantly as Dean muses over how to express himself and Dean rushes to keep explaining his point. "She didn't seem like herself, nor a shapeshifter. She was too fast and too... Unreal to be human, and she couldn't be a shapeshifter. She was carrying metal. And why would no one have seen her if she stayed? Why would she have come back to the hotel? It just doesn't add up."

Sam hums pensively. 

Dean stars to shake his leg uneasily as Sam's frown deepens and occasionally glares at Dean.

"Did anyone else see her? What did the people you interviewed say?"

Dean clears his throat uncomfortably and turns his gaze back to Sam before staring at the road intensely, his eyes not taking anything in. They're the only drivers there anyways.

"I," he caughs, "I didn't have enough time to talk to anyone." His voice grows stronger as he goes on. "I saw Jo and came back to tell you. Not m'fault you're the Usain Bolt of research." He adds, giving Sam a half smirk as to lighten the tension in the car.

The joke falls flat however and Sam's frown only deepens.

After a few seconds of Dean white-knuckling the wheel in the not-quite silence of the wheels against the pavement and the motor running, Sam stop surveying him and speaks up non-chalantly.

"Are you okay, Dean?"

" _'m peachy_." Dean answers automatically. Then he adds as an afterthought, "it's Jo you should be worrying your pretty hair about."

Sam looks at him strangely, but ends up relenting, consequently shrugging. "Okay."

Dean's not oblivious Sam's posture though, and his mind starts to feel with paranoia about what Sam could know.

After the longest silence Dean feels he's ever experienced, Sam leans forwards and turns on the radio. Dean almost jumps off his seat at the sudden sound. He suppresses a flinch at the tell-tale sign not turning the music on the second he got in Baby of him not being in his right mind gives. He hopes he can blame it on the case. Jo's basically their little sister, after all.

As he notices that it's Celine Dion and not one of the Classics that's blaring through the radio he hastily changes the music station. Dean growl at Sam's aborted move to change it back.

"No way. This isn't a mid-aged woman's car."

When Sam opens his mouth, probably to point out the sexism in the sentence and to argue his way to the last radio station, Dean growls at him.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

Sam's face turns into a bitch face, but he doesn't complain, and when he turns to face the window, he does it to hide the small secret smile that appears at getting his brother back. 

"Jerk." He mutters.

Dean, lost in his thoughts, doesn't answer.

When Sam looks out the window, they're long past the sign to Tulsa.

Dean parks before Sam's even noticed they're there.

Dean's hands shake slightly as he hides them in his pockets. He frowns. The cookie's still in there. 

They stare into the normal-looking motel while they wait for a few civilians to make themselves scarce before going to the motel room Sam says Jo _must_ be in, but they pick the lock this time. 

When they open the door, there's no shapeshifters, no Jo, no any kind of creature. Dean looks into the closet while Sam goes towards the bathroom.

He's about to turn back when he hears Sam gas and curse.

" _Dean_."

Dean follows the sound to the bathroom. When he looks in, his face pales. 

"Is she...?" 

"No," Sam says, "But almost."

"Can you...?"

" _Dean_ ", urges Sam too quietly, "call Cas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a chapter!
> 
> I really hope I didn't mess the Supernatural lore up. It's the first time I write a case fic and I didn't really know how to turn things around, but I did my best so it's okay with me.
> 
> And... Well, it's finally here.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience.
> 
> Two chapters more to go. 
> 
> I don't know if I'll have them on time (I wanted to finish the fic this year). The last chapter is already half-way written, but the chapter in between will still take a bit. Still, I'll try to write it between tonight and the 31st.
> 
> I'm not too satisfied with this chapter myself but I don't dislike it either. I hope I didn't romanticized eating disorders and that it actually made sense.
> 
> I really hope you liked it.
> 
> As always, I apologise for any possible mistakes.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Take care :)


End file.
